Power Play
by DarthObsydian
Summary: "You will stay with me tonight, "he said, brushing back the hair that had fallen in her eyes. "That way you can rest in ease, knowing I am safe from treason from any hand, save your own."
1. Domination: Palpatine

**"Power Play"**

"_You don't fall in love with someone like the Emperor because you like the way he laughs or the cute dimples he has. You fall in love with him because you feel a kinship to him. You wanted what he wanted, which was power; and that lust for power won't go away._

-Corran Horn, to Ysanne Isard (_Isard's Revenge_)

**3 years ABY **

Ysanne Isard had proven a faithful servant; one whose ruthlessness and unrelenting lust for power had earned her a high rank under the Emperor's dark command.

Palpatine had first noticed her attachment to him when she was no more than a twelve year old girl, accompanying her father, Armand, to work at the Senate. Ysanne would follow Palpatine around like a pet, watching every move he made with awestruck respect and fascination. In her eyes, he was a hero. The man who had 'saved the galaxy' from destruction. And on several occasions Armand had come to him, musing about how excited his daughter spoke at home of 'meeting the Supreme Chancellor'.

Little did Armand know that the man who chuckled along with him did so not out of amusement at the girl's idolatry, but at the knowledge that the father was so blind to the truth that he could not see the darkness already coming to life in his daughter. Within Ysanne lived a creature so convicted in its passion that it was willing to lie in wait, until the appointed time, at which it would then smite any who stood in its path to victory.

It would destroy the chains of subordination and rise, out of the shadows, out of darkness, and into the blinding, all encompassing light that is _power_.

However, through the years, Ysanne's love for Palpatine had become fanatical, at times even delusional. And though she would never openly admit it, he knew that such feelings for him unnerved her in a way that few things could. Ysanne had come to rely on his favor. A slave to his affections.

In her mind, and in his, this made her weak and, if not kept in check, in the future could prove to be fatal. It impaired her judgment and warped her focus, and at times she became too intent on pleasing her Emperor than serving the Empire.

Other times, this weakness proved to be more entertaining than anything else. Palpatine found a small fountain of amusement in watching his Director of Imperial Intelligence fall prey to petty jealousies and resentment towards the other women in his court, which often sent her into ill rants of rage.

Much like she was doing at that moment.

"Anyone can see that Roganda Ismaren is a traitorous harlot whose only love for you comes out of a lust for power and _revenge_," Ysanne said, her eyes narrowed.

The Emperor glanced at her from his seat in the chair. "And?"

It was so much fun to see just how high of a pitch her voice could go.

"_And _you feel no qualms about having it public knowledge that she is your concubine, and yet when the public eye is cast upon the two of us, you shy away!" Ysanne crossed her arms over her chest, her hair falling to cover half of her face, leaving Palpatine the main focus of her crimson glare. "Her skill with sorcery aside, am I not better than some half devoted, scaly handed, slimy little…" Ysanne's voice trailed off at the sound of the Emperor's laughter.

"My dear Ysanne, I am surprised at you! I never took you for one to be so… _ungrateful_."

The Director froze.

_Ah, yes. Sometimes a woman like you needs to be put back in her place. _"I never realized that I treat you so poorly," Palpatine said with mock concern.

"Sir, I did not mean-"

"After all," he continued. "Have I not been more generous with you than I have any other?"

Ysanne was losing her fire, "Your Majesty, I would never want to-"

"Have I not expressed enough favor?" Palpatine shook his head and stood to pour a glass of wine. "What more can you possibly want? You wished for a prison ship and I gave you the _Lusankya_. You wished to turn it into a torture chamber and I buried it underground so that you could perform you're debauchery in private. Over the past three years I have supplied you with countless droids, weaponry, poisons, anything you needed to make your ambitions a success."

He took a long drink and turned to her, his face hidden within the shadow of his hood. "I even overlooked your lies concerning your father's treason, executing him as you wished, and allowing you to believe you had somehow maintained a flawless reputation in my eyes."

Ysanne looked hurt, which made it even harder for the Emperor to hide his smile.

"I should have known that there was no fooling you," she said. "Even for a moment. Why did you not correct me? Why was I not punished? Why did you allow the trial to continue?"

Palpatine shrugged. "What was the use? I knew you would prove yourself more than capable of meeting the needs of the Empire. Far more than Armand ever could." His voice softened. "It is no secret that I am proud to have you by my side, Ysanne. Take pride in your position and cease trying to become a meager little whore just for the sake of the public knowing the role you play in my chambers."

Ysanne looked away for a moment, and when her eyes again met his there was a playful nature about her that surprised even him.

"So you mean, I shouldn't try to please you with a _performance_," she said as Palpatine sat back down. "Even one like… _this_."

And while it was true, the woman was pleasing enough to the eye, the Emperor watched her show with the same interest as he would give any other performance he had seen a dozen times before, barely aware as she pushed his seat against the wall, straddling his lap, as she unclasped the golden chain that held her dress in place.

By now, he had memorized every line, every cue, and therefore, was not surprised when he saw the vibroblade leave its sheath around her thigh, and was able to deflect it easily a second before it reached his neck. Palpatine gripped Ysanne's wrist, twisting it behind her back, and sat, waiting patiently, until her cries of pain had ceased.

"I thought you would be impressed at my progress," Ysanne hissed through gnashed teeth.

Palpatine smiled. "You've come far in these past months, my dear. It was much closer this time." He flexed his fingers, and the weapon fell from her hand and clattered to the floor safely out of arms reach. _This game grows old_, Palpatine thought as Ysanne rolled off of him, covering herself with the fallen fabric of her dress.

"However, I must insist that you either hurry to become strong enough to actually pose a threat, or," he said, pulling the stricken woman up out of the floor and back into his arms. "Cease the tedious practice of training if all you are going to succeed at is testing your opponent's reflexes. After all, there are more _intriguing _ways to pass the time."

Ysanne would not meet his gaze and Palpatine was becoming more and more amused at her efforts. "I only wish to serve you," she said. "In intellect and command, as well as body- and in body, I wish for service aside from my talents as a woman."

Palpatine inclined his head, "Your devotion is touching, Ysanne."

"I try."

"Indeed you do," the Emperor said, and Ysanne rested her head on his chest.

"I love you," she sighed, and he knew that it was true. Palpatine regarded her for a moment, noting the differences in her mood that night. She was unsure, self conscious, and- most shocking of all- Afraid.

Palpatine untangled himself from her arms and rose to his feet, moving to pour himself another glass of wine.

"But it's not just the rebels and a need for service that have you so determined," he said with his back to her. "You fear _Mara Jade_." The flash of guilt in her eyes told him all he needed to know. "You fear _replacement_."

"My Lord, forgive me, but I-"

The Emperor raised a hand and Ysanne fell silent. This was just too much fun.. People were much easier to control when they were _so _eager to please.

"My dear Ysanne, what meaning does that child have to you? It is not as if she is after your position, she has not the skills for that."

"That's not what I fear, Sire," she said, her eyes wild. "If you are mistaken, then she could betray you in a way that would be detrimental to the Empire!"

Palpatine raised a brow. "Have you lost all faith in your Emperor, Ysanne?"

The woman fell to stuttering. "No! Never, My Lord! That would be impossible; I was merely stating my concern for your safety; that is all."

"Perhaps." Palpatine met her gaze and, placing his glass on the table, he motioned for her to come to him- a command which she gladly obeyed. "Let us speak no more of this tonight," he said, making sure his voice held just enough warmth to loosen the tension in her body.

It worked.

Her finger's caressed his cheek as Ysanne lowered his cowl to better see his face- a move which he allowed no other. Palpatine took her wrist and pressed it to his lips, feeling satisfaction in the way her pulse quickened at his touch.

"You will stay with me tonight, "he said, brushing back the hair that had fallen in her eyes. "That way you can rest in ease, knowing I am safe from treason from any hand, save your own."

Ysanne's lip curled. "I would never betray you."

Palpatine kissed her neck, "And I will never believe you."

Although, that wasn't entirely true- for his faith in her faithfulness was secure enough- a thought of discipline came to his mind. Something to make _certain_ of the Director's loyalty for a little while longer. Palpatine allowed her to pull him to the bed as he shrugged his outer robe to the floor. His eyes glowed brighter, yellow flames flickering in the dark.

Misreading the meaning behind his excitement, Ysanne's own became bolder,hungrier, and she pressed her lips hard against his, her hands raking through his hair. The Emperor leaned back as her mouth moved from his, down to his neck, then chest. He waited until she rose up to untie his belt before making his move.

Palpatine closed his fist and her breathing stopped. Ysanne clawed at her throat, but to no avail. She was in his grip now, and she knew it.

"One thing you must never forget, my dear, is that as long as you serve me you can have anything you wish. Power, Fame, Fortune… all you must do is ask for it." Ysanne's face had flushed a deep crimson and her eyes were losing focus. "_But_, if you ever betray me- if ever I feel that trust in you is no longer valid- the world around you will come crashing down, and everything you hold dear will be destroyed."

He held her there for a moment longer, than released his grip. She fell beside him, jerking and heaving for breath.

"Remember that, if ever you feel the lure of the throne growing too strong."

"What do I have to do to make you trust me, My Lord," Ysanne gasped, pushing up on shaky arms.

"Nothing. It is impossible," Palpatine said, wiping away a tear on her cheek that had fallen from her bloodshot eyes. "We are too much alike, you and I."

Ysanne swallowed hard, nodding her head. She sat up on her knees and met his gaze full on. "What do you think I want, Your Highness?"

"It is no secret what you want, Ysanne," Palpatine said, his face hidden in the shadows. "You wish to be Empress- with or without me."

The Director looked crestfallen. "That's not true. I'd never wish any harm to come to you." She paused as if she struggled with her words. "And I am truly sorry if I have ever given you the impression that I felt otherwise. You're the only man that matters, My Lord. Forgive me."

Palpatine smiled and, in a rare fit of compassion, opened his arms to her and said in voice that held as much sincerity as he could possess, "Then, if you love me, strive not for a title as my bride, but for a place at my side. Whether it is by my throne, in my bed, or simply at the banquet table. If you love me as you say you do, forget my power; forget my wealth. Forsake all others and be my lover, as well as my servant. Become satisfied with the place in which you stand, and continue on in contentment."

Ysanne made no reply, but he knew she had been listening. Palpatine cupped her chin and raised her so that he could see her face. "Will you do this?"

When their lips again met, it was with softness foreign to either being. From Ysanne, Palpatine felt a strange surge of emotion: Hatred for being destined to remain inferior; Lust for power which she could never attain; and an unyielding, all consuming love for the man to whom she called Master.

Would he ever be able to return that love?_ Do I even want to?_

"I will do it," Ysanne said finally, her eyes meeting his. "For you."

Palpatine was silent for a long moment. It was so rare that he found himself questioning, well, _anything_. Why that night? Why in that situation? Why did he keep answering himself with more questions?

It mattered not. Tonight he would give in to passion- for that was the way of the Sith. He found solace in this strange fear of Need.

In one, fluid motion, Palpatine lay the woman down on the embroidered sheets and, for a moment, was lost in the calculated wantonness of her eyes; uncertain whether the feeling he had when Ysanne laid that piercing gaze, ingenuous in its crudity, over him was one of pleasure or of warning- for he was well aware of what harm a woman's love could do.

They truly _were _more alike than he wanted to admit. _One half of the other_, he mused, watching as Ysanne arched closer to his body. _And now it is time to for the halves to become one._

When they moved together, it was without restraint. All resentment faded away and each breathed in the other, a scent so dangerous but alluring, so surreal, yet so familiar.

It was in moments like this where fights over power ceased and each became submissive when required and dominated where the other lacked.

And through the night, until both souls lay gasping for air, trembling and clutching in a weakness that they would show no other- and that neither would ever speak of again- they released themselves to sleep, which sang to them, pulling them to a place far from safety, succumbing to the knowledge that, no matter how hard either may fight, in the end, they are merely slaves to their own darkness.

And chains of darkness are not easily broken.

***x*X*x*X*x*X*x***

Palpatine sat up, careful not to wake the woman curled in the sheets beside him. It was rare that he allowed her to stay, but as of late he was finding it more and more disquieting to be alone. After all these years, the shadows were starting to play tricks, meshing into ghosts from ages ago.

He cursed himself. After all this time, he should not have been plagued by such a trifling thing as Fear.

And yet that is what it was- Fear. A feeling he was becoming more and more accustomed to.

What was worse is that Palpatine had been seeing _him_.

Lurking soundlessly out of sight, a creature that had crawled out of oblivion and had returned from the Netherworld of the Force to claim vengeance on the traitorous soul who had sent him to an early grave.

Darth Plagueis the wise. Hego Damask. Dark Lord of the Sith.

Victor of Death.

Was back.

Palpatine shivered and cursed himself for doing so. _What was happening to him?_

He shook his head and turned to look at Ysanne, worn out from a night of passion. It was rare that he saw her like this- although it seemed like nothing had happened as of late that _wasn't_ "rare".

She was so peaceful. So content. So… happy! The Emperor smirked at the tiny smile present in the corner of her lips.

Palpatine was overcome with a sudden urge to kiss her, but disgusted with himself for acting so compassionately, he merely flicked his finger, beckoning forth the vibroblade from the floor and into his grip.

His movements were quiet as he bent over Ysanne, placing the hilt of the weapon into her hand that was curled next to her face. Palpatine froze as she moved in her sleep, cuddling closer to him, her fingers closing around the blade.

The Emperor smiled.

_Let her face this challenge_, Palpatine thought. _When she awakes armed, and with me defenseless at her side._

He lay back down, turning on his side. When he heard her stirring he feigned sleep, keeping his eyes in the Force trained on his mistress.

She was confused, but alert. He could feel her temptation, could almost hear her thinking how easy it would be to take his life, to steal his throne.

In the end however, she let the knife fall back to the floor with a gentle clatter and traded in assassination for a little while longer in the Emperor's arms.

Palpatine smirked, inwardly.

_Will the game ever end?_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

A bit different from what I normally do, BUT:  
This story was a request by (And therefore dedicated to) **DarkJediJade**.  
The cover image of this story was also her doing! xD

The story takes place right after the party scene in _Mara Jade:_ _By the Emperor's Hand_.

**The ghost's Palpatine was seeing is not just random information, they WILL be seen again. Foreshadowing of an upcoming fic, you could say. ^.^**

I hope you enjoyed what you read!  
And, as always, feel free to Review! 3


	2. Submission: Ysanne

"Power Play"  
Part II

"_The__ love that lasts the longest is the love that is never returned.__"_

- Maugham

Her love for him had not been instant. No, the spiral into delirium had begun with more of a ravenous obsession.

Ysanne remembered the times her father had taken her with him to the Senate. Everyone had looked upon the two of them with disapproval- it was too dangerous, for a girl her age, to enter such high security areas, unguarded in the presence of the most notorious villains in the galaxy.

It had mattered not. _He_ hadn't cared. _He_ had faith in her. And, after all, _he_ was the one who mattered.

Supreme Chancellor Palpatine: savior of the galaxy, keeper of the peace, restorer of justice. _He_ was her idol, her hero. And one day, _he_ would be _her's_.

Ysanne's mother and father laughed at their daughter's devotion.

"It's just as well," they would say. "Better a celebrated head of state than some holovid star."

_If only they could have seen just how blind they were. _Many times Ysanne would look back on those moments and muse at just how little they understood what power they were facing. She could feel something coming to life inside of her- a creature that had been sleeping, waiting, for the precise time to strike, to devour the life force of any who stood in her path to success.

Armand Isard had been too ignorant to notice. _Just as well,_ she thought. _He had become weak in his old age. And anyone who displayed such weakness deserved to die._

Once she had ridded the galaxy of her father's insolent presence, Ysanne had made it her life's pursuit to please the only man who mattered- her Emperor.

As Madam Director, her service had been carried out in a ruthless manor, as she relied on fear and punishment to secure order amongst her men. The attention this received from the Emperor was enough to turn her love for him from slight corruption to full blown insanity.

She would never admit it, but the strength of her passion terrified her. Ysanne wasn't one to give in to such trifling emotions- and romance was just a prelude to lust that might as well have been skipped for all the good it can do.

And yet… every waking moment was consumed with her unquenchable thirst for his approval. She shuddered to think of all she could lose if these cravings were not extinguished. Many times, she had failed in her duties as Director in her pursuit of the sovereign's love- a feat which would have been punishable by death or, and possibly worse, removal from her post _had_ she not blamed her shortcomings on her inferiors, executing them in the appropriate manner.

Other times, this weakness of hers served only to fuel her already unstable temper, sending her into unprecedented fits of rage at the other woman her Lord allowed in his presence. Concubines- harlots- who held no true devotion to their Majesty, only giving their loyalty in exchange for a moment in the presence of power, protected from the strife of life by acquiring his favor and, as such, his generosity.

It was enough to make her physically sick.

On occasion the Emperor would allow her to freely voice her concerns, in the privacy of his chambers of course. It was her hope that he would listen to her plight, see the voice of reason, and perhaps disband his trampy assortment of women 'admirers' that flocked to his quarters in the shadow of night.

"Anyone can see that Roganda Ismaren is a traitorous harlot whose only love for you comes out of a lust for power and _revenge_," Ysanne said, her eyes narrowed in disgust as she turned to the Emperor who was seated in the corner.

"And?"

Ysanne nearly fainted.

"_And _you feel no qualms about having it public knowledge that she is your concubine, and yet when the public eye is cast upon the two of us, you shy away!" Ysanne crossed her arms over her chest, not bothering to push her hair out of her eyes- it was just as good he couldn't see how it had affected her. It was easier to show anger than admit insult. "Her skill with sorcery aside, am I not better than some half devoted, scaly handed, slimy little…" Ysanne's voice trailed off at the Emperor's laughter. Suddenly she felt embarrassed.

"My dear Ysanne, I am surprised at you! I never took you for one to be so… _ungrateful_."

Ysanne froze. _Oh no…_

I never realized that treat you so poorly," Palpatine said, concerned.

_Now, I've done it. _"Sir, I did not mean-"

"After all," he continued. "Have I not been more generous with you than I have any other?"

Ysanne winced, "Your Majesty, I would never want to-"

"Have I not expressed enough favor?" Palpatine shook his head and, upset, moved to get another glass of wine. "What more can you possibly want? You wished for a prison ship and I gave you the _Lusankya_. You wished to turn it into you're a torture chamber and I buried it underground so that you could perform you're debauchery in private. Over the past three years I have supplied you with countless droids, weaponry, poisons, anything you needed to make your ambitions a success."

Ysanne felt ashamed. _Perhaps I did go too far… _

She stood silently as he took a long drink before speaking. "I even overlooked your lies concerning your father's treason, executing him as you wished, and allowing you to believe you had somehow maintained a flawless reputation in my eyes."

Ysanne froze. Those words hurt more than any she had heard before. How much of a fool he must have thought her… how she could have ever thought she could outwit him- the man who sees all.

"I should have known that there was no fooling you," Ysanne said. "Even for a moment. Why did you not correct me? Why was I not punished? Why did you allow the trial to continue?"

Palpatine shrugged- no doubt to put her at ease. Sometimes he could be so kind.

"What was the use? I knew you would prove yourself more than capable of meeting the needs of the Empire. Far more than Armand ever could." His voice softened. "It is no secret that I am proud to have you by my side, Ysanne. Take pride in your position and cease trying to become a meager little whore just for the sake of the public knowing the role you play in my chambers."

Unable to meet his gaze, Ysanne looked away. Her love for him was so strong… there had been so many who has chastised her through the years. Warning her that the Emperor was incapable of returning her passion, saying that he is less than human- a _monster_.

If only they knew just how alike the two of them were. It was part of the attraction after all… and one of the many reasons that she was forever in his debt. Perhaps she didn't tell him enough? No. That wasn't their way.

Perhaps… she should _show _him. After all, her Emperor always enjoyed a good show.

"So you mean, I shouldn't try to please you with a _performance_," she said as Palpatine sat back down. "Even one like… _this_."

Ysanne raised her hands above her head, and remembering the sensual rhythms of the dancer's drums, she moved her hips in time to the beat, spinning in imitation of the concubines her Majesty so loved to keep. She pushed his chair against the wall and climbed into his lap, never stopping her dance.

She unclasped the golden chain that held up her dress with one hand, while the other fell behind her to her thigh where the tiny blade was sheathed. As the fabric came down Ysanne grinned, triumphant.

_He may be Emperor but he's still a man. Spark his interest and then… strike._

Her movements were swift and before Palpatine had time to blink, Ysanne grabbed the knife and thrust it at the exposed flesh of his neck- and would have succeeded if not for the bone crushing grip that seized her wrist, drawing from her a cry of such agony that she did not know she possessed.

"I thought you would be impressed at my progress," Ysanne hissed once she regained her breath.

Palpatine smiled at her. "You've come far in these past months, my dear. It was much closer this time." He flexed his fingers, and the weapon slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor out of arms reach.

Ysanne rolled off of him, angry at her own failure, as she pulled her dress back in place. The fact that he was staring down at her, clearly amused, was only salting the wound. _Which_, she assumed, was probably the point.

"However, I must insist that you either hurry to become strong enough to actually pose a threat, or," he said, and Ysanne felt his arms wrap around her as he helped her back into his lap. "Cease the tedious practice of training if all you are going to succeed at is testing your opponent's reflexes. After all, there are more _intriguing _ways to pass the time."

Ysanne appreciated his innuendo, but at the moment her pride was too damaged to return his gaze. "I only wish to serve you," she said. "In intellect and command, as well as body- and in body, I wish for service aside from my talents as a woman."

Palpatine inclined his head, "Your devotion is touching, Ysanne."

"I try." And she meant it.

"Indeed you do," she heard him say, and Ysanne rested her head on his chest.

"I love you," she sighed. Palpatine was silent for a moment, and Ysanne knew he was trying to decipher why his mistress was behaving so strangely. She prayed he wouldn't guess- although it was inevitable.

Palpatine untangled himself from her arms and rose to his feet. Ysanne curled up in the chair and watched as he poured another glass of wine.

_I wonder what could be wrong… to make him drink so much._

"But it's not just the rebels and a need for service that have you so determined," he said with his back to her. "You fear _Mara Jade_." Ysanne tensed. "You fear _replacement_."

_Now you know…_ "My Lord, forgive me, but I-"

The Emperor raised a hand and Ysanne fell silent.

"My dear Ysanne, what meaning does that child have to you? It is not as if she is after your position, she has not the skills for that."

"That's not what I fear, Sire," she said, her eyes wild. _I fear losing you, but you're either too blind to see it, or don't bother enough to care. _"If you are mistaken, then she could betray you in a way that would be detrimental to the Empire!"

Palpatine raised a brow. "Have you lost all faith in your Emperor, Ysanne?"

Ysanne's jaw fell. "No! Never, My Lord! That would be impossible; I was merely stating my concern for your safety; that is all."

"Perhaps." Palpatine met her gaze and, placing his glass on the table, motioned for her to come to him- a request she was pleased to oblige. "Let us speak no more of this tonight," he said, with a voice so warm all tension in her body melted away.

She lived for moments like this.

Ysanne's fingers brushed across his face as Ysanne lowered his cowl- partly to see his face, partly because she delighted in the fact that it was a move only she could make. As she pulled away, Palpatine took her wrist and pressed it to his lips. Ysanne inhaled softly, her pulse quickening at his touch.

"You will stay with me tonight, "he said, brushing back the hair that had fallen in her eyes. "That way you can rest in ease, knowing I am safe from treason from any hand, save your own."

Ysanne was hurt. "I would never betray you."

Her as closed when he kissed her neck. "And I will never believe you."

Deep down, Ysanne knew that wasn't true. Otherwise she would not be there now. It wasn't something she was minded to let spoil the night however, they got too few as of late as is. In an act of boldness, Ysanne pulled him to the bed as he shrugged his outer robe to the floor. His eyes glowed brighter, yellow flames flickering in the dark.

At the sight of his excitement, Ysanne's own became bolder,hungrier, and she pressed her lips hard against his, her hands raking through his hair. The Emperor leaned back allowing her mouth to move from his, down to his neck, then chest, before she raised up to catch her breath and unfasten his belt.

Palpatine's eyes were burning now. His hands were curling in the sheets. It was rare that he let this much of his pleasure show. Ysanne was about to mention it when his fist closed and her breathing stopped.

Ysanne clawed at her throat, but to no avail. The world around her filled with red smoke and the only sensation she remained aware of, was the palpable satisfaction coming from the Emperor. He had her in his grip- and he knew it.

"One thing you must never forget, my dear, is that as long as you serve me you can have anything you wish. Power, Fame, Fortune… all you must do is ask for it." His words sounded as if they came from under water and Ysanne's world started spinning, her vision fading to black. "_But_, if you ever betray me- if ever I feel that trust in you is no longer valid- the world around you will come crashing down, and everything you hold dear will be destroyed."

When he let her go, she fell beside him, jerking and heaving for breath. _Why does it always seem to end like this?_

"Remember that, if ever you feel the lure of the throne growing too strong."

"What do I have to do to make you trust me, My Lord," Ysanne gasped, pushing up on shaky arms._ I'd do anything… if only you'd let me!_

"Nothing. It is impossible," Palpatine said, and he wiped away a tear from her cheek that she hadn't realized she shed. "We are too much alike, you and I."

Ysanne swallowed hard, nodding her head; in that, there was truth. She sat up on her knees and met his gaze full on. "What do you think I want, Your Highness?"

"It is no secret what you want, Ysanne," Palpatine said, his face hidden in the shadows. "You wish to be Empress- with or without me."

Ysanne could feel the tightness in her chest. _Does he think so little of me_? "That's not true. I'd never wish any harm to come to you." She paused, fighting to find the right words. "And I am truly sorry if I have ever given you the impression that I felt otherwise. You're the only man that matters, My Lord. Forgive me."

Palpatine smiled and surprised her with a rare fit of compassion as he opened his arms to Ysanne and said in voice filled with more sincerity than she had ever heard him speak, "Then, if you love me, strive not for a title as my bride, but for a place at my side. Whether it is by my throne, in my bed, or simply at the banquet table. If you love me as you say you do, forget my power; forget my wealth. Forsake all others and be my lover, as well as my servant. Become satisfied with the place in which you stand, and continue on in contentment."

Ysanne said nothing. Palpatine cupped her chin and raised her so that their noses touched. "Will you do this?"

"I will do it," Ysanne said, her eyes meeting his. "For you."

In one, fluid motion, Palpatine lay her down on the embroidered sheets and looked over her with a

_We are so alike_, she thought. _But perhaps not as much as I'd like to believe. _

Ysanne was shocked at the speed in which he took her, dissolving her thoughts of differences as the two spirits melded into they moved together, it was without restraint. All resentment faded away and each breathed in the other, a scent so dangerous but alluring, so surreal, yet so familiar.

It was in moments like this where fights over power ceased and each became submissive when required and dominated where the other lacked.

And through the night, until both souls lay gasping for air, trembling and clutching in a weakness that they would show no other- and that neither would ever speak of again- they released themselves to sleep, which sang to them, pulling them to a place far from safety, succumbing to the knowledge that, no matter how hard either may fight, in the end, they are merely slaves to their own darkness.

And chains of darkness are not easily broken.

***x*X*x*X*x*X*x***

When Ysanne awoke she did so begrudgingly. It was so rare that her dreams were so pleasant. She moved to stretch, but when her hand closed around the cool metal, she froze.

Her lids were heavy, but she could see well enough to know what it was.

Another test.

Another trial.

Another chance.

The vibroblade was in her grip by the doing of the Emperor- forever trying her loyalty. Ysanne turned to the form beside her. For all intents and purposes, he appeared asleep.

Which meant that he was wide awake and could see every move she made.

Nevertheless… she _could_ do it.

If for no other reason than to prove to him that she was not weak- that she had fight left in her still.

_But is it worth it?_

Ysanne shook her head and let the knife fall back to the floor.

When she did, the Emperor rolled over, seemingly in his sleep, and Ysanne slipped back under the covers, snuggling up in his arms, content to give up the throne for just one more night like this.

Ysanne felt a surge of disgust at her own foolishness.

_Perhaps I am a weak after all. _

* * *

**Author's Note:**

This was Part 2 of the request- the same scene from Isard's POV.

Thank you all for your kind reviews and PMs, it means so much.

Feel free to Review (it's habit to say by now)  
& May the Force be with you


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